


Truths, Lies and Rumors

by Beap



Series: His Son's Destiny [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beap/pseuds/Beap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The disgusting lies were true, Hunith discovers.  She becomes enraged while thoroughly convinced that Arthur is evil, tyrannical and is sexually abusing Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sordid Letter

Hunith thought to wad-up the letter and sling the filthy thing into her fireplace. All lies, her mind screamed. All, cruel and filthy lies. But how could a mother ignore the words when someone as kind and decent as Guinevere had written the letter. Instead of burning the rough brown parchment, Hunith added it to her hand-quilted haversack that she now packed for Camelot.

****

****

Merlin dug his fingers into the mattress. Left clutching the sheets, he soon released his grip and arched his spine just as Arthur wrapped strong arms around his chest and pulled him up to his knees. Splaying his thighs wide, he sought desperately to have Arthur deeper inside and he rotated his hips, wedging them into Arthur's loins with a force that pushed them backward upon their haunches. Sweat sealing their heated bodies, he turned his long neck to meet a mouth already parted and waiting for him. As their lips sealed, too, he gripped Arthur by his nape to keep them locked while swaying his pelvis faster, speeding their motions.

Arthur groaned, pleading faster. Faster. Their releases now urgent, he rubbed the length of Merlin’s chest, squeezing muscle and nipples with scissored fingers that went downward and gripped his manhood. Forcing their loins tighter still, Arthur readily matched his pace. Both suddenly cried into the other’s mouth to silence their passions as they drew motionless, melded, while bone-shattering tremors threatened to rip them apart.

In unison they resumed until draining their last iotas of energy. Nothing left, they fell purposely into their sleep positions. Merlin willed his spent arm to retrieve a cloth from the bedside table and he wiped them up a bit before straightening their covers. He then settled against the warm chest behind him.

Arthur pulled him closer. As he drifted, fading from the world, he mumbled, “I love you, Merlin.”

A simple declarative sentence spoken in the thralls of sleep, barely audible, Merlin knew that the words were not meant for his ears. Nor would Arthur have consciously said them. Neither would he. They were men now, battle-tested and destined to rule a kingdom. Not tiptoeing tulips who verbalized such emotions. Especially, to another man. The words still brought tears to his eyes. He snuggled tighter and whispered to an unhearing snore. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

Near mid-morning, Merlin finished tidying the chambers. With Arthur's girly words still fresh in his mind and causing a happy little smile, he returned the royal breakfast trays to the kitchen before going to muck the stables. While he mucked, Gaius searched frantically for him. No luck in the prince's chambers or the kitchens, Gaius scurried down a corridor toward a castle exit that led to the knights training on the field.

A voice suddenly called out, "Gaius."

The old man recognized the voice but pretended not to hear. He considered his current business to be far more pressing.

"Gaius!" The voice called louder. 

No choice, Gaius stopped and silently cursed, “damn,” before he turned and said, “Yes, sire,” to answer the king.

Uther approached and rested a casual hand upon his shoulder. His face beamed with pride as he said, “Olaf’s delegation brought with them his list of questions concerning our new sewage advancements. It seems, our skills precede us.” Steering Gaius toward their meeting room, he instructed, “enlighten them on our accomplishments in disease control...”

**

Merlin left the stables and went home after his night with Arthur and his morning of chores. As he opened the door, he first startled, then excitement and apprehension filled his eyes. "Mother," he exclaimed. All the while, questions bombarded his brain. “When, how did you get here? Is everything alright,” he insisted to know.

Hunith quickly answered to ease his fears. “I’m fine. Ealdor is fine,” she said and then smiling, she calmly asked, “Do I need a reason to visit my only child?”

Merlin exhaled. Her calming words and gentle smile relieved his worries and he rushed to hug her. But he stopped short of their embrace. He suddenly remembered that horse dung covered his clothes.

Hunith hugged him, anyway. “We have horses in Ealdor, remember,” she said as she lowered his head and kissed a clean spot on top. She then stepped back. Seeing an opportunity in his filthy clothes, she started her gentle probe and with a mother's proficiency. Still smiling, she asked, "I thought that you were Arthur’s manservant? Not his stable boy.”

Merlin laughed in reply. "It's his idea of punishment," he said. "I failed to wake him in time to start training, this morning.” But as soon as he had spoken, his amusement faded. Apprehensive, again, he wondered if she had grasped his full meaning.

Hunith assumed. However, she concealed her thoughts while slowly pacing her tender interrogation. Smiling again, she added, “I’m sure that his punishments are reasonable, as long as he doesn’t beat you.”

“Beat me,” he asked, surprised by her statement. A strange uneasiness developed between them and he cautiously asked, “Mother, why would you say that?”

“Oh, a rumor has reached Ealdor,” she responded casually as if dismissing the rumor as trivial gossip. However, logic still dictated that she ask, “is the rumor true? Does Arthur hit you? In your face?”

Merlin stood, speechless. His eyes searched the room with his mind wondering Gaius’ whereabouts. As he searched and wondered, Hunith read evasiveness on his face and she concluded that the rumor was true. "Arthur does hit you," she deduced. "Does he put you in the stocks and throw you in the dungeons, as well,” she now demanded to know.

“Mother, where is Gaius," he finally asked. "Did you press him for this information, before I arrived?”

Growing angry, she replied, “Gaius has told me nothing! But he should have!”

“Mother, please. Things aren’t what they seem. Let me explain,”

“Explain what,” she interrupted, getting angrier. “That Arthur is not as I believed but is a cruel and evil tyrant, like all the rest!”

“Mother, where are you getting this information,” he pleaded. “Arthur is neither cruel nor evil,”

She interrupted him, again. "You defend Arthur but I hear no denials! Did he cast you into the streets, as well? In the dead of winter? To freeze and starve to death?”

Merlin opened his mouth but he didn't know which event to explain first. He begged, instead, "Please, mother, be reasonable. There is a good explanation for everything,"

She still heard no denials from him. The entire letter was true. Every cruel and filthy word. She now fought hysteria. Fear suddenly surpassed her anger and she grabbed him by his shoulders. "We'll flee," she said. "This moment! Back to Ealdor and out of his kingdom! If he pursues, we’ll run farther. Deeper into Mercia. Into the forest of Ascetir. Live amongst the Druids if need be…” Still planning their escape, she turned and rushed toward his bedroom to pack his things. “…we must make our loads light…”

Merlin stood, totally confused. "Flee? Pursue? Live with the Druids? Mother, what are you talking about," he asked and he started to follow behind her. "I have no intentions of leaving Camelot…”

His words made no difference. As she rushed to pack, she tried to comfort him. Speaking in an equal rush, she said, “It’s alright, dear. I understand. Here, you mingle with royalty and serve a prince and even a king and live in a glamorous castle with knights and challenges and feasts and Camelot is always bustling and each day is filled with excitement and adventure for you, unlike Ealdor, where little ever happens and we can barely scratch out a living…”

Merlin sighed. Reasoning with her was hopeless, especially when everything that she believed was true. No denying it, he had been punched, pelted, locked up, cast out, nearly froze, nearly starved and yet each had a valid explanation. As he stood inside his bedroom doorway and watched her move frantically about his room, grabbing this of his belongings and discarding that, he realized that she still considered him a child. Yet, he wasn't a child. He was now a tough and battle-tested man. Like a man, he raised his voice in objection. “Mother, I understand your concerns," he said. "But I’m not leaving.”

She continued to speak in her rush as she leaned over his bed and stuffed his knapsack. “Dear, you don’t realize what you’re saying. I know that you think that life is glorious here and worth the sacrifices that you make but I will not let you remain in this den of iniquity, subjected to Arthur’s abuse.”

Merlin tried to put more authority into his tone. Speaking over her, he said, “I’m sorry, Mother, but the choice is mine and I choose to stay.”

Hunith went deathly quiet. In a slow turn, she gazed upon him. Summoning the spitfire of a mother bear protecting her cub, she swore, “Then, I will take that choice away from you.”

“What, how,” he stammered, and in the voice of a child, again. He had never seen her so riled. “What are you planning to do,” he asked.

She thought fast. “I will give you a day’s head start," she answered him, low and stern. "Then, I will go to the king, myself, and reveal your magic.”

Merlin's mouth fell open. The king already knew. Thinking it the greatest confusion of all for him to explain, she would be the one in danger if she should discover that the king knew and if the king knew she knew he knew. His head ached. Muttering through his opened mouth, he asked, “Mother, you would do that to me?”

Rage twisted her face as she vowed, “Best we escape you far from Arthur, lest I kill him! And if I die in my attempt, so be it! Whatever the cost, I will never let you stay here as," Steeling herself, she finally said the most sordid part of the letter, "as Arthur's sexual slave!”

**

Arthur paced ahead. When Gaius finally caught up, Arthur stood gazing about Merlin’s shambled bedroom. Still in his training armor, sweat soaked hair plastered his brow. Without turning, he acknowledged, “Gaius, we’re too late. They’ve already gone.”

The old man bend over while trying to catch his breath. He struggled to apologize." I’m sorry, sire," he huffed out. "I tried to reach you in time. Unfortunately, I was detained.”

Arthur turned and descended the bedroom steps in two giant strides. Leaving, he said, “They couldn’t have gotten very far. Especially, if they’re on foot.”

“Sire,” he cautioned as he reached out a hand and grabbed his arm as he passed by him. “Before you pursue, there are several things that I think that you should know.”

“Speak quickly, Gaius. Time is valuable,” he said, and started to pace while listening, to control his rush.

“It concerns Gwen, my lord.”

Arthur stopped pacing. Stunned by the mention of her name, he asked, “Guinevere? What does she have to do with Merlin’s mother or him leaving?”

Gaius finally stood up. He breathed a bit easier as he explained, “The reason I think that you should delay. I feel it wise for you to arm yourself with as much information as possible before you face Hunith. As I said on the training field, she is a mother possessed. At all cost, she is determined to protect her son and I fear that she has been convinced the enemy is you.”

“Gaius, are you saying that Guinevere convinced her of this nonsense,” he asked, with his top lip contorting upward.

Gaius noted his doubtful expression. “My sentiments exactly, sire," he said. "And I told Hunith as much but in her anger, she let slip that Gwen communicated to her in a letter certain occurrences, which brought her to Camelot.”

“Occurrences,” he asked, with his doubt turning into confusion.

“Not pleasant for a mother to read, I’m afraid,” he said, followed by a long and pensive gaze into Arthur's eyes.

Arthur gazed back. Finally, he read the pensive eyes. He took heed and he started to think back. As he thought, he took a seat on a bench. Gaius was right. Numerous events had occurred that would enrage a mother. Foremost, his punches to Merlin's face, not to mention his punches, elsewhere. Then, his dismissal, with Merlin an outcast, forced to live on the streets, reduced to a common beggar, wasted to bone and seeking shelter in the dungeons from the cold. His subsequent illness that was long, harsh and mentally debilitating. Arthur's thoughts finally settled on his bed with her son gripping the sheets while he thrust into him with a tireless and even reckless passion. After several moments, he quietly said, “I see.”

Gaius stood, looking down at him. By Arthur's resigned and angst-riddled face, he imagined his thoughts. He cleared his throat as he sought to justify the letter. “Gwen loves you, Arthur," he said. "She loves Merlin, too. But only so much can she be expected to bear.”

“So, she breaks us apart,” he sighed as his shoulders slumped with the weight of his chain mail suddenly heavy upon his back. Together, he and Merlin had wage battle against creatures, sorcerers, bandits and even each other but never had he expected them to be ripped apart, defeated, and by all things, a sordid letter.


	2. Concessions

Uther forked another healthy slice of pork from his dinner plate. Before devouring it, he laughed, still bragging on his concrete drainage ditches. “…Olaf thinks that I raised taxes to finance our new sewage system…”

Morgana smiled and pretended to give him her undivided attention.

Arthur, however, sat half-listening while lost in separate thought. He picked at his pork and wondered of Merlin. Occasionally, he glanced at Guinevere as she moved gracefully to fill a water or wine goblet or ladle more gravy. Oh, how well she had learned to hide her heartache, he thought, and even when a saboteur who was forcing him to choose. Still unwilling to make that choice, he assumed that he had more time…

…Three days now, Merlin had been gone but his father was filled with laughter and Guinevere seemed unfazed. Maybe Merlin was right, he brooded. Maybe he was a prat after all, arrogant and selfish, because his only thought, at the moment, was that he now had neither to share his bed.

Uther laughed, “…Olaf acts as if his coffers can’t afford basic stone when just last year the man boasted of his need to expand his treasury vaults…”

Morgana shifted in her chair. With her motion, she disguised glances at Arthur and Guinevere.

All the while, Uther continued to brag, “…I recommended that he have his people provide the necessary labor, as I. Then, he’d have no reason to increase their levies…”

“Father,” Arthur interrupted, and with the enthusiasm of a pickled herring. “I’m in need of a new manservant,” he said but the words tasted sour on his tongue. He now loved Merlin and he refused to take another manservant to his bed. “If Oswald is still available, he’ll suffice.”

Guinevere halted the king's wine in mid-pour. She stared at Arthur with her mouth ajar just as Morgana looked across the table at him, too. A more royal expression mixed with surprise and her well-known contempt for his manservant on her face, Morgana asked, “Has Merlin left you?”

Her superb performance garnered a glance from Uther before he turned his face back to his son, whose confused eyes stared into Guinevere’s open mouth. “Arthur," he asked. "Do you care to explain what happened to your previous manservant?”

Arthur forced his eyes from Guinevere's palate. In his confusion, he stammered, “um, um, not really, father.”

Uther fought alarm. His son's destiny was at state. Yet, in a tone masterfully void of concern, he asked, “Will he be returning?”

“He didn’t say, father. He simply left.”

Uther dismissed the matter to further conceal his worry. “Perhaps, it’s for the better,” he said, insinuating that they were too close, anyway. “I’ll reassign Oswald to you, tomorrow.”

**

With dawn and Camelot well behind, Arthur and Guinevere reduced their canters to a slow trot. Riding in silence, she paced her horse alongside his. She imagined that Morgana would be rising by now and wondering her whereabouts as a different maidservant tended to her needs. Guinevere knew that she risk dismissal but Elyan and her father’s forge would sustain her, she was certain. Besides, Morgana was no longer the gentle and caring soul of old.

Emotions strained as they rode, Arthur distanced himself with the sounds and shadows of the forest while constantly scanning the trees. However, he expected no threats within the kingdom’s borders and his thoughts often returned to his bed. He still wished for more time but Guinevere's letter was forcing his to choose. Her or Merlin.

She spoke first to break their awkward silence. Nervously, she admitted, “I wasn’t aware that Merlin had left Camelot. I simply assumed that he was off somewhere with you, hunting or something like you always are, I mean, like he always is, with you. Not hunting. He doesn’t like to hunt. Nor was I aware that you’ve been avoiding me but was simply out hunting, or something, with Merlin, but I understand why you thought I wrote the letter, even if Hunith had not told Gaius I had, which I didn’t,” she stopped, cringing that she rambled.

Her blundering efforts brought a small smile to Arthur’s tense face. Of all the people he knew, he loved perhaps the two clumsiest. Guinevere often tripped over her words, and Merlin, over his own feet. “And yet, you slip away with me to bring him back, while knowing,” Suddenly his words faltered, too.

“Knowing what? A man’s needs,” she completed and then rambled, again. “Arthur, I won’t deny that I’m jealous of him and while I suffer in silence, I watch the two of you become more attached but not so jealous as to make you suffer, as I, with no one to fulfill your needs while we both wait for a better day in Camelot. I love you too much for that and while I gladly wait for you, my greatest fear is that you will not leave him when that day finally comes.” It was more of a question she posed.

Arthur was slow to respond. His eyes scanned the hill and trees again as if searching for a solution to their quandary. Drawing analogy from the forest, he carefully answered, “to be honest like you, Guinevere, I cannot say in good conscience that I will forever cede the familiar to the uncharted. The future, alone, holds that answer. The same future, which will determine if you deny Lancelot and cleave only to me.” Finally, he looked at her. “If you can declare now, with certainty, your actions, then, I will try to do the same.”

Guinevere remained silent as she stared into his waiting eyes. Her answer became apparent when she slowed her horse and fell behind, now trailing him to Ealdor.

**

No morning chimney smoke told Arthur that the small village was still asleep. He hoped to catch Hunith off guard or risk a mother bear's wrath. Guinevere, he instructed to wait beside a barn with the horses while he went first, to defuse her anger.

As Arthur eased inside their humble little home, squinting from the limited morning light, he suddenly scratched his head. No one was there. When he returned to Guinevere, she asked, “What do we do, now?”

Half the morning, they inquire from familiar faces the whereabouts of Hunith. The villagers, still grateful to Prince Arthur for helping rid them of Kanan and his marauders, happily shared their food and what information they had. Which was very little. All said that Hunith left for Camelot several days ago to visit her son, Merlin, but had yet to return. Many became worried for her.

Near noon, Arthur and Guinevere remounted. He turned his horse toward the great forest of Ascetir. However, he had no trail to follow. Nor was he sure if they had fled in that direction. After several moments, he said, “It’s much too dangerous to go farther into Cenred’s kingdom.” Left sitting like a bronze statue upon his mount with his face impassive, he resigned to let Merlin go. In his silent resignation, he cussed the sordid letter. Both he and Guinevere now suspected who wrote it but lacking proof, neither openly said. Besides, it didn't matter. The letter had accomplished its goal. Merlin was gone.

Guinevere was not sure of just how she felt, except sadness to see Arthur’s devastated face. In her sympathy for him, she commanded her horse closer to his side. Arthur knew that she carefully watched him. He looked around at her and forced a smile but such a piteous effort saddened her more.

commanding his reins toward Camelot, he announced, “We go home, now.”


	3. Merlin Returns

Snoring snug in his chambers, King Uther jolted woke. Flinching and flailing, he tried to cry out but the hand over his mouth stifled his cry. When his bulging eyes managed to find focus, he stared directly into a familiar, narrow face. Suddenly outraged, Uther grabbed the hand and slung it from his mouth. “Merlin,” he now cried out. “You better have a damned good explanation for this!”

“Shhh, shhh,” Merlin begged, with a finger now pressed to his own lips. “Please, sire, I need your help.”

Breathing heavily, Uther demanded, “How did you get past my guards,” but he realized that he was, after all, talking to a sorcerer. “Never mind. What is this all about,” he insisted while slinging his legs to sit on the side of his bed.

Merlin whispered, “My mother.”

“Your what,” he bellowed, in disbelief.

“Shhh, shhh. She’s here, too, my lord.”

Uther rifled his eyes about his chambers. Subconsciously, he grabbed his robe to modestly cover his nightgown but seeing no woman, he clutched the garment to his chest in fright. “Where is she," he demanded. "What manner of sorcery,”

Merlin quickly beckoned his hands to quiet him and calm his fear. “Not here, here,” he corrected and then nodded toward the king’s bookcase. “She’s waiting, in there.”

Uther looked where his head pointed. After a moment of confusion, the secret room entered his mind followed immediately by an old man being severely lashed. The image brought a frown to his face. Gaius was much too old. He imagined a tongue lashing instead as he deduced, “So, that was your means of entry.”

Merlin begged, again. “I know that I don’t deserve your help, but please, sire, I truly need it.” 

Uther gazed at the slender figure standing glowed by a moonbeam in his dim chambers. Wise, the warlock had kept safe distance after starting their quarrel. He recalled the verbal gauntlet Merlin had thrown along with the insult, “hypocrite.” He then remembered his own ruthless victory that reduced the boy to a huddled mass of bone sitting defeated in his dungeons. If Merlin is man enough in defeat to beg now for help, would he not be a bigger man in victory to give it, Uther reasoned. “What is it, my son," he asked, and with surprising compassion.

Merlin startled. He felt overwhelmed by the old term of endearment.

Uther held up his chest, now an even bigger man. He stood, donned his robe and then casually waved a hand toward his candelabra on his dinner table. “Let’s put some light on this subject,” he instructed, magnanimously.

Merlin quickly obeyed. So quick, he thought to use magic to lite the candles but decided it foolish to ruffle the king’s feathers, again.

“Now,” Uther commenced, while sitting at his table. “What is this help you plead,” he asked as he watched Merlin rush to tend the candelabra and then rush to light several more candles about his chambers. “Does this concern your abrupt departure or my son equally abrupt hunting trip,” he asked.

Merlin whirled to look at the king. Alarm on his face, he didn't know that Arthur had left Camelot. Uther noticed his alarm and again showed magnanimity by waving him to sit at the table with him.

The impropriety, Merlin hesitated. However, he needed help and he took a chair, as ordered. “For two day, now," he started to explain his need. "Mother and I have been living in the catacombs beneath your castle,”

Uther interrupted him. Outrage in his voice, he demanded, “A woman and your mother, at that, living in those begrimed tunnels.” Sitting higher, he now reveled in his newfound gallantry.

Merlin hunched, to allow the king his noble theatrics. “My lord," he practically mumbled. "We first fled from Camelot. Halfway to Ealdor, I managed to convince her that it would be safe in the catacombs while I sought proof of,” he stopped, searching for inoffensive words.

"Proof of what," Uther prodded.

“Well, um, sire,” he said as he hunched lower, hesitant to criticize the prince to the king. “My mother is convinced that Arthur has been, um, abusing me.”

“He's been doing what,” Uther demanded, implying absurdity. He started to say, ‘but my son loves you!’ Far too much emotional revelation, he asked instead. “Who deceived your mother and convinced her to believe this nonsense?” However, as soon as he asked, Morgana, with her well-known contempt and superb dinner performance entered his mind.

Merlin swayed his head. “Mother won’t say," he answered. "Nor can I convince her otherwise, about Arthur. Not without revealing some major details. That’s why I’ve come to you, my lord,”he said and then braced himself, waiting for the king to explode at his next request. “I can see no other way to convince her without breaking my oath to you.” However, he quickly added, “like Gaius, Mother already knows that I have magic. So, I wouldn’t actually be breaking my oath.”

Uther glared at the boy. Technically, the warlock was right. He then stood and walked to his window, which caused Merlin to jump to his feet. Remaining seated was definitely improper while the king stood.

For the longest while, Uther gazed into the moonlit night and at the ghostly fog-laden trees. Arthur was somewhere deep within the eerie mist. Uther now suspected that his son had ventured alone to the outskirts of Cendred’s kingdom and possibly farther, searching for the boy he loved. More so, Uther thought, for the young warlock who was destined to protect him. But Merlin stood in his very chambers while his young and foolish son scoured a dangerous countryside. The old dragon had warned, "…Heed my words. Arthur will never succeed… Their destinies are entwined…"

The fear of losing Arthur led Uther to ask, “And, if you cannot convince your mother?”

“Then, we must flee, again.”

“I see,” he said and then he nodded with his mind now made. Turning, he ordered, “Bring her to me.”

Merlin rushed. He opened the secret passage but Hunith seemed hesitant to exit. No longer shroud in total darkness, she lingered while squinting and gazing about the small space.

"Oh, no," Merlin muttered. He grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her out. “Please, Mother, the king waits.”

Uther practically oozed congeniality as he approached her while reaching for her hand. “The honor is mine to see you, again,”

Merlin already moved to stand behind the king. He whispered, “Hunith,” in passing.

“Hunith,” Uther continued, without missing a royal beat. “My dear boy, Merlin, tells me that you’ve been upset, of late,” he said, still beaming with chivalry. He escorted her by the hand toward his table. “Let’s see if we can resolve this dreadful situation and put your mind at ease.”

All the while he spoke, Hunith stared sideways at his face while wondering if the king of Camelot still wore dresses.

**

Dozens of questions asked and answered, Hunith found herself convinced on certain matters. Not so much, on others.

She had even uttered, “Poor Arthur,” when Uther explained the circumstances that led not only to Merlin’s bruised face but also a host of battered knight on the training field, fists drawn against himself and an angry lunge at Morgana…

She then felt tremendous pride, although Merlin had nearly starved and froze, when Uther spoke of his challenge to save a young sorceress.

Despite the numerous accolades, Hunith had yet to hear why Merlin shared the prince’s bed. Two hours later and day dawning, a low rage still glistened in her eyes. She bluntly asked, “Why is my son forced to sleep with Prince Arthur?”

Uther was startled by her bluntness and he cleared his throat while Merlin, standing propped against the door and listening for the guards, bit harder at a fingernail.

As diplomatic as possible, Uther answered, “While it is true that Arthur must maintain the royal bloodline and consequently, must seek companionship in, let us say, none fertile grounds, I’m certain that he has developed, over time, a high degree of respect for your son. Any deeper sentiments, I leave for Arthur to convey." Uther shrewdly changed the subject. "While we await his return, please, consider my castle your home. You are to be my guest.” Pleasantly phrased but it was more an order.

Hunith nodded, accepting it as such, however, her mind still struggled to decipher the meaning of his words, "respect" and "sentiments."

Uther stole advantage from her confusion and he said, “A question, myself, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded but her thoughts still pondered his last response.

Abrupt, himself, Uther ordered, “I want the source of this misunderstanding.”

Hunith flinched and suddenly clutched at her bosom. There, she kept the letter from Merlin's nimble fingers and prying eyes. She then begged the king, “Please, my lord, you must see, by now, that everything written was true. I must have your word that no harm will come to my friend. No disrespect to Prince Arthur was intended. Only, my son's welfare was sought.”

"I give you my word," Uther assured her while beckoning toward her bosom. "I will not lay a hand."

She turned aside, showing discretion as she pulled out the rough brown parchment. She then handed it to the king.

Uther unfolded the paper but he didn’t need to read the words. The quillmanship was unmistakable. Morgana. He stood while placing the letter in his robe pocket. “I’m sorry to interrupt our visit, Hunith, but my manservant will be arriving at any moment and the day’s duties call. Rest this morning while we await Arthur. I'll have a maidservant assigned to you and tonight, you'll be my dinner guest.” He took the candelabra and then her arm to help her rise. “I want you to enjoy your stay in camelot.” As he planned her visit, he started escorting her slowly toward the secret passage.

Merlin nearly panicked and he bolted off the door. He then rushed and grabbed her by the arm. “Come, mother, we must hurry," he insisted as he started pulling her.

All the while, Uther tried to be magnanimous. “As all women love to shop, please, feel free to purchase new attire for the occasion and, at Arthur’s expense. As further goodwill, I'm reinstating Merlin. He has access to Arthur's personal coffer,” he said while trying not to furrow at Merlin for rushing his eloquent efforts. “Please, take what you need.”

Hunith was flabbergasted. She stopped and stared at the king, wondering his generosity, with Merlin still pulling on her arm. With a tug, he literally yanked her into the secret room, leaving Uther to pace after them. “Sire, we can manage from here," he assured Uther, as he quickly descended the trapdoor and down onto the tunnel’s iron rungs. "My lord, you can slide the bookcase back, now," he insisted, almost ordering the king. With only his head and shoulders sticking up, he pulled at his mother's hand. “Come, mother, come."

Uther followed her inside the room while still speaking magnanimously. “Like I said, I wish for you to enjoy your stay in Camelot.” In a final display of chivalry, he lowered the candelabra for Hunith to watch her step. Once safely on her way down, he closed the trapdoor and turned to exit. Suddenly, his mouth fell open. “What the hell,” he muttered.

Uther stood, staring at a portrait of his younger self. Dress in an evening gown, he wore lipstick, face rouge, a swirling blond wig and a tiara atop his head…

“Merlin!”


End file.
